


No One Ever Loved

by thebesttempinchiswick



Series: I Go Ten Thousand Miles [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hallucinations, M/M, Memory Issues, Nightmares, Suicidal Thoughts, betrayal/misunderstanding, post purgatory, prolouge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1784926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebesttempinchiswick/pseuds/thebesttempinchiswick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wonders if it's winter somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Ever Loved

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first installment of its series, and it is, albeit, a bit of a prologue. The real action starts to build in the next installment and picks up in the third. All of the titles, and the series title, are named after songs. The playlist can be found [here](http://open.spotify.com/user/samtom22/playlist/1MnMw2ZQJg4006klp6Tqyu) on spotify

He wonders if it's winter somewhere.

He wonders if there's a place where the summer sun won't burn his skin and he can lay in the snow, watch the flakes fall, and pretend he's chosen it. Pretend he's chosen this life, this silence, this vast enormity in which he resides alone, bones sharp like glass and insides tearing over them like paper. He wonders if there's a place he can slowly go to sleep under the night sky, feel the too hot heat that pours through his veins slowly leave him.

He wants to watch the sky fade to night and he wants to fade with it. He's crawling out of his skin, dying in the heat.

He doesn't wonder where he'd wake up. He knows. He's always known. He's done nothing at all to deserve heaven, and the alternative is hell.

But he doesn't stop dreaming of winter skies, of snow and sleep and an end to the silence that's taken him over.

>

As if the fucking nightmares weren't enough, he just had to hallucinate too.

The first time it happened, he had almost crashed his car. Only, afterwards, to find that he was alone in the road, with the trees and the empty sky and the noiseless earth. Just him and the endless woods, as it always seemed to be. It was so alone, he could've shattered right there. Laid on the ground and never moved.

And tonight, for the second time, he had seen his face outside the window. A flash of lightening, and it was gone. He knew he couldn't go on like this. No one could, no same person could deal with something like this, day in and day out.

It wasn't right. Nothing in this world was, lately.

Sam and his girl and his dog, Benny still trying to call him, Kevin battling demons and leviathan. The whole world had changed in the time he had left it. It was almost like it had forgotten him, filled the space he had once occupied, and now he was trying to squeeze back into it. And it would've been so much better not to have to do it alone. Maybe, just maybe it wouldn't have been as hard if his only company wasn't his guilt, the knowledge that yet again, he had failed someone he loved.

That brought up painful memories, and he shoved them quickly back down. He couldn't afford to drown in his pain, to relive the moments in which he slipped through the veil and Cas didn't, because he let go of his hand. Because either he didn't try or Dean didn't succeed, and history indicated the latter.

Why did this happen to him? Why did everyone he loved get torn away from him by one force or another? And yeah, he was in love with Cas. He had come to this silent conclusion the night they left him at the hospital with Meg. If he was honest with himself, he had known since the day he walked into the reservoir and disappeared, but that night was the first time he could truly admit it to himself. The next day, he had told his brother, who'd chuckled. "I know." He had said. "I've known for awhile now. Bobby too."

He had told Cas, in more or fewer words, the night they hunted down Dick Roman. At the time, he had thought they were all going to die, that it wouldn't matter anyway, that he at least deserved to know before he bit it.

He had never, in his wildest dreams, imagined that they would live. He had never thought that maybe he would chase Cas through every hill and canyon in Purgatory, only to discover that Cas wasn't looking for him at all. He had never imagined that he wouldn't be able to get him back through the portal. He had never imagined that in his absence, the world kept turning without him.

He had never considered the possibility that he would have to face the harsh, cruel light of day alone.

>

His grace was in a state of disfigured confusion, and it was making flight quite the challenge.

Like a diver that came up too fast, he was stumbling about between the terrestrial and ethereal planes, trying to find his way to Earth, and then, to a motel. Specifically the motel where Dean was.

He had no idea how he had escaped purgatory after forcing Dean to leave, and he wasn't exactly eager to find out. However, he knew Dean would be, after they fought.

He knew they were going to fight because he knew Dean. He wouldn't understand why Cas had stayed behind. He would have taken it personally, and he would be angry. And they would be fine, as soon as his anger passed. And it always did. After all, they loved each other, didn't they?

He prayed silently to his absent father that his actions hadn't changed that.

He knew the consequences at the time, when he walked away from the portal, and he did it anyway. Angels valued penance and obedience above all things. And while he was no ordinary angel, he still knew that those who did wrong must pay the price. He knew that time would pass on Earth, and Dean would forget him. He would struggle at first, but eventually he would let time pass over his mind. He would settle down with someone who loved him, someone who could give him everything he deserved. The world was a big place, there had to be someone like that for him there.

He knew Dean wouldn't understand any of that, though. Humans tended to take abandonment very personally. He would take it as a rejection instead of a sacrifice.

And a mighty sacrifice it was, too. It hadn't been easy, but it was his duty. He had to pay the price for the things he had done, the pain he had caused. And not just to Dean, on earth and in heaven alike.

And it had worked, for awhile, too. He had never in a thousand years imagined that he would wake up one day on Earth, but he had.

For about a week, he had wandered around the woods he was in, somewhere in Maine. He forced his grace, thrumming and poking in his veins, to lie still. But after some time, he didn't know what to do anymore. He wasn't helping anyone this way, much less himself. And so, he had begun to stretch his wings, only to find that he couldn't quite control them. Angels weren't meant to visit purgatory, and it had done a number on his grace. Which was how he found himself flitting unskilled and imperfectly around the earth, trying desperately to find purchase.

He tried to avoid crowded areas as best he could, because people balked when they saw him. He wondered why for a while, until at one point he landed in front of a mirror and saw himself for the first time. His coat was torn, he was covered in dirt, and he seemed to have grown a beard. It was strange, probably a result of his weakened state allowing biological functions to take over. He had briefly imagined kissing Dean with it, him laughing as it scraped lightly against his cheeks.

He had found himself accumulating such fantasies more and more often since Dean had told him how he felt, the night they went after Dick. Well, "told" was a very loose term. Dean had waited until they were alone before cupping his face and kissing him, breath tasting of liquor, mostly whiskey. If he could go back, he would've been calmer, but at the time he responded with all he had, pushing him against the wall and fisting his hands in his jacket. Dean had responded with shared enthusiasm, and they finally pulled away when Charlie came looking for them. He had whispered it to him, like a prayer, not a moment after.

The rest of the night was a blur of adrenaline. He wished he could remember saying it back, but he wasn't sure if he had.

Finally, he had some control over his grace. With a fluid motion, he was gone, off to find Dean.

>

He bent his head over the sink, scrubbing his face in defeat. Another night without sleep, another too-silent day ahead.

He considered drowning, not bothering to specify to himself whether it would be in whiskey or water, heaven and hell knowing it wouldn't be in love. Something, some liquid to fill his ears and his nose and mouth and lungs and at least make the never ending silence seem less out of place. If he couldn't escape the empty space around him, he could at the very least pretend to have chosen it.

He could feel it in the air. This was the very edge, the tipping point.

He looked up, and in the mirror behind him, there was a face. "Cas?"

>

His shoulders were tense and hunched, he was leaning over the sink. Briefly, Cas wondered if Purgatory had done some lasting damage that he hadn't been aware of at the time. But no, that was not possible. Maybe he'd been hunting? It would certainly explain why he looked so tired, but it didn't account for his soul. Castiel could see it now. In Purgatory, it had shone bright with purpose and drive, the only pure being in a sea of monsters. But now it was dimmer. By a fraction of a measure, he was sure. Humans, if they could see souls, wouldn't have been able to detect it. Most angels wouldnt've been able to either. But Cas, he had rebuilt that soul from the ground up once. He knew it, and something, some great hardship, was dulling it ever so slightly.

He could've reached out a hand to touch him, but he didn't. For the first time in a while, he stayed locked in place.

"Cas? Is it really you?" He sounded unsure, like he had been led awry and thus became wary. It only made him wonder further what had taken place in the weeks between their meetings.

He had no time to wonder, for Dean pulled him forward, one hand around his neck and the other grappling for purchase somewhere around the small of his back. He melted into his lips, cupping his face and breathing in the nonexistent space between them.

>

They pushed back into the bedroom, empty after Sam had gotten a call from Kevin and driven to meet him and his mother. They grabbed frantically at each other, pulling and tugging and throwing clothes on the floor. Suddenly, Cas seemed to take notice of his condition. "I'm dirty." He said.

Dean almost thought it was an attempt at bedroom talk, before he watched Cas back up into the bathroom and mojo himself clean, wiping his hands on a paper towel. "You sure clean up nice."

"I'm glad you think so." He said, sauntering back to the bed. The heat in Dean's veins had reached a boiling point, threatening to consume him. But as soon as Cas laid hands on him, it was pacified, if only a little bit.

Cas was cool water, flowing around him and taking him in. He surrounded him, pushing around him and filling him up. "I missed you. Missed you so bad." He heard himself whisper.

"I missed you too. I'm sorry, so sorry. For what happened." Cas whispered back, leaning back in to nip at his Adam's apple. He tasted the raw need bleeding through the other man's skin and the heat bubbling under the surface, the pain seeding itself in his bones. He was worn. He opened his lips and welcomed the surge of energy in.

Cas's erection strained against his boxers, which he got rid of with a single motion. He dragged a finger under the waistband of his own, pulling them off. Cas's member stood flush against his stomach and he began to stroke, fisting his hand around the tip and earning a moan that made his blood rush downward and his eyes roll back.

His vision swam with the heady mix of it all, heat searing his eyes. His own cock was leaking precome onto his stomach. He was still lost in the other man's soft lips when he felt a hand cupping his balls, slowly stroking up towards the base of his dick. "Dean. Need you." Came a whimper.

He started with one finger, and then two, scissoring Cas open while Cas licked filthily into his mouth, searching with his tongue for every last bit of him, dragging the fever out into the open air. He added a third finger and moved his lips to Cas's pulse point, feeling the heat of his neck and the movement of his breath. He stole a quick glance at the other man's face to see his eyes half lidded, dark and rolled back with pleasure. They looked like the night sky, somewhere up north, where there weren't lights. He had been dreaming of going north lately. Dreaming of water, water and snow. "Ready?" He asked.

"Yes! Please!"

He thrust up gently, dragging his cockhead across Cas's entrance. At the strangled moan that followed, he pushed up a little more. Inch by inch, he burrowed his way into his lover, bathing in the moans and profanities that came out of his mouth. "Fuck, Dean, more! Fuck me, fuck me." He moved his lips back to Cas's, taking the lower lip between his own and sucking gently, rolling his teeth along it as he fucked deeper and deeper. He tasted like ozone and ice and stillness. But not silence, never the silence. The farther he moved in, he pushed the torturous silence to the brink of his mind, the empty spaces that shouldn't be there, pretended they weren't at all. When he was at the base, he picked up the pace a little, grinding his hips and bowing his head.

"Fuck! Dean, I'm gonna- I'm gonna come!" Cas cried as he rocked against Dean. He almost missed the beautiful look on the other man's face, as he came at the same time. He didn't let go as they rode out the orgasm, careful not to let Cas go. Never let him go.

They fell down on the bed together, tangling up and breathing, for what felt like hours. Cas cleaned them up with a touch, and they were content. Well, he could've been content. He could see it, like a funhouse mirror, that he could be content like this. He could lie here and never move, the fever in his veins having died down, the silence at the edges of his mind. He could be content, if they were completely gone, nothing reminding him of his lasting guilt.

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

Cas's head popped up. "For what? For this?"

"No, no, not this. You know what, baby. I... I didn't get you out. And I'm sorry."

>

He sounds serious, serious and sad, and guilty, and it makes the feeling go out of Cas's hands and the air go out of his lungs.  
He's confused, and it mingles with his blood, replacing the sated feeling from minutes ago and bubbling into concern. "Hey, everything isn't your responsibility. Getting me out of Purgatory wasn't your responsibility."

Dean laughed, a mirthless, hollow sound. "You didn't get out. So whose fault was it?"

"It's not about fault. It's about will. Dean, do you really not remember?" He could only try to have this conversation as gently as

His eyes narrowed. "I lived it, Cas. Okay, I know what happened."

"No. No, you think you know. You remembered it the way you needed to."

Dean's jaw tightened, and he stared at the ceiling. "Look, I don't need to feel like hell for failing you, okay? For failing you like I've failed every other godforsaken thing that I care about! I don't need it!"

He sighed, reaching out to touch his forehead. "Dean. Just look at it. Really look at it."

>

A few seconds. A moment. A touch. And the world was tumbling down around him. The walls crumbling and the roof caving and the sky falling. And none of it mattered, none of it mattered at all.

He heard Cas's voice like from a dream.

"See, it wasn't that I was weak. I was stronger than you. I pulled away. Nothing you could have done would have saved me, because I didn't want to be saved."

His brain was short circuiting. Whether it was from the memory boost or Cas's confession, he couldn't be sure. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's where I belonged. I needed to do penance. After the things I did on earth and in heaven, I didn't deserve to be out. And I saw that clearly when I was there. I... I planned to stay all along. I just didn't know how to tell you. You can't save everyone, my friend... though, you try."

He would've responded, but he was left unable to form a complete sentence. His anger left him speechless, face burning. "So what? You get mojo'd back topside, and you think you can just act like it never happened? Come back here and– and just– you didn't even tell me! You never told me any of this shit! You just– left! How the hell could you?!" Why?!"

"Because, my love, I knew you would take it personally. I knew you would be angry."

He threw off the blankets, walking across the room. "Don't you dare say that to me. Don't you dare call me that! You left me, you chose that fucking forest over me. You don't get to come around here and, what, play house? Is that what this is to you? You don't get to pretend you love me."

He was turned away now, towards the window, with his back towards Castiel. Pale moonlight drifted in over the two of them. There was a long silence, and if it hadn't been for the lingering tension in the air, he could've made himself believe he was alone again, that none of this had happened. What he would give for another moment of that.

It had been a blessing compared to this.

At the end of the long pause, almost inaudible, came "I'm sorry."

He paused, before continuing, soft as though speaking would shatter something. "I only tried to do what was right. I caused so much pain, it only seemed right for me to suffer."

"How original." He spat, before he could stop himself. "You try to do the right thing and you fuck everyone over. In other news, the sky is blue."

He wasn't at all surprised when he turned around to a silent, empty room.


End file.
